So Much to Lose
by beautifulworld
Summary: I have so much to lose here in this lonely place, tangled up in our embrace... KarenGrace fanfic but also includes the whole gang together starting from mid s7.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Blatantly aren't mine. I'm not making any money from them. Please don't sue me? The lines from the song quoted at the beginning are from Alanis Morrisette's "Under Rug Swept". It'll make sense later.

**Spoiler warning: **This continues (kind of) from season 7's "Bulley Woolley" with a bit of a twist on it, and then will go AU from there. Other than that there isn't anything else obvious.

**Notes: **This is the first part in a (hopefully) long-running Karen/Grace fic. Please, no flaming. I'm always happy to receive constructive criticism but if you have an objection to f/f pairings (I will say now that this will NOT be a graphic pairing - it involves a femslash couple but if you're looking for girl on girl NC17 fic, you're gonna be disappointed) then this isn't the fic for you. Also, huge thanks to Lindsey Grissom and chinesecinderella for beta-ing and convincing me to post.

**Part One (Grace POV): Under Rug Swept  
**

_What part of our history's reinvented and under rug swept?  
What part of your memory is selective and tends to forget?  
What with this distance it seems so obvious?_

"You tried to destroy my best friend"

I think that startled me as much as it did him; I'd never thought of you as my best friend before. I mean, Will is obviously my best male friend – but, somehow, without either of us noticing, I'd put you up there beside him. And it's true. Will is my dearest friend, but these days I turn to you as well because he'll lie to me to protect me and you'll tell me the truth. Often it's your own unique, twisted version of the truth, but I've come to tell the difference between the times when the drugs spin you into your own twisted clarity, and when you're so aware of everything and everyone around you that it startles both you and me. It scares me that I know drunk Karen better than I know sober Karen.

Because you are two different people, you know. Drunk Karen is fun, all wide smiles, flirtatious offers and stolen kisses in the swatch room that mean more to either of us than we'll ever admit. But sober Karen, once you've gone through an hour or so of nervous giggling and impatient movements, is quiet, hands folded in your lap, tired expression. The sober Karen is the Karen who cries in Jack's lap, hidden in my bedroom away from Will and I. It used to hurt, you know, that you turned to him instead of me. But now I know why.

The truth grips me, fleetingly, and I let it go again. This isn't about me. It's about me and you; it's _us_. If there even is an us. And now, as I watch you sleep, I realise how much I want us. I need it. But I can't need it, because you won't. You've never needed anything, not even the alcohol, or not as much as it seems, anyway. You want them, just like you want Stan and you want Rosario and Jack and your step-kids (yes, I know how much you miss them, do you really think I'm that blind, Karen?) and me and even Will. But you won't let yourself need it in case it's taken away from you.

I can't blame you. Stan wasn't only taken from you, he left you. And Jack – well, Jack's dedication to you depends on how much money he needs and his latest fling and a dozen other factors, but he'll never leave you. You two connect on a level beyond anything superficial, and it's one of the oddest relationships I've ever seen, but it's also one of the most genuine. And as for me?

I'd like to think that you know I'll always be there. I hope that you need me, I want you to need to phone me in the middle of the night and I want to leave the flat and rush over to the penthouse. But I'll always remember that night in your limo when I begged you to ask for help, and when you did several months later, I turned you away.

A small voice is reminding me, trying to abate my guilt, that you weren't always the best of friends to me. But somehow, I know that you always thought you were helping in your own unique way. You've never been intentionally cruel to me, and despite whatever Will might say, you're very rarely mean without some sort of provocation. You're always harshest when you're sober, without the numbing effect of the alcohol to take the edge off of your pain.

Part of me is always wondering how much pain you have that makes you this way. Why do you drink and why the pills, why the endless masquerade of parties and people that you don't want to see? Why do you do this to yourself? I'd almost asked, once. I remember I'd been going to AA meetings just to have someone to talk to - ridiculous, now I think about it. I, Grace Adler, do not lack people to talk to. Then you found me, dragged me back to the office for beer and sympathy. You came so close to opening up - looking at me, eyes begging for help, and before I could give it you pulled away again. Because, you and I, we don't do that.

And I look down, at your porcelain body intertwined with mine, pulling away from me slightly even in your sleep and your peace, a thumb edging toward the corner of your mouth, desperate for even that small comfort, and I wonder what the hell I'm letting myself in for. Part of me is screaming "Run, Grace!" because I _know _I'm a selfish person. It's just who I am, and I can't – well, no, I won't – change. And I know you well enough to know that a meaningful relationship with you won't be easy, and I'll have to be the gardener and not the rose, and I'm not used to that.

But I'm not as strong as you. You've managed to walk away, push me away emotionally and physically when I've hurt you. Yet despite the countless times you've hurt me, I've never been able to walk away from you. Not once in nine years.

And I'm not about to start now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Blatantly aren't mine. I'm not making any money from them. Please don't sue me? The lines from the song quoted at the beginning are from Whitney Houston's "Unashamed".

**Spoiler warning: **This continues (kind of) from season 7's "Bulley Woolley" with a bit of a twist on it, and then will go AU from there. Other than that there isn't anything else obvious.

**Notes: **This is the second part in a (hopefully) long-running Karen/Grace fic. Please, no flaming. I'm always happy to receive constructive criticism but if you have an objection to f/f pairings (I will say now that this will NOT be a graphic pairing - it involves a femslash couple but if you're looking for girl on girl NC17 fic, you're gonna be disappointed) then this isn't the fic for you. Also, huge thanks to Lindsey Grissom and chinesecinderella for beta-ing and convincing me to post. This one's for Linds :D

**Part Two (Karen's POV): Strength of My Needs**

_Unashamed of the life I lead_

_Unashamed of the strength of my needs_

_Of choices I've made_

_Of the love that I've saved_

_Of things that I've done_

I've never slept well, but last night, peaceful slumber was more elusive than ever, for all the right reasons. There are nights when rest is impossible, when demons creep into my consciousness and taunt and jeer and stab until there's nothing left; and there's the full cool glass on my bedside table and the single pill that banishes the pain for one more blessed night. Then there are nights like last night, not experienced since I left Stan, when I want to stay awake and revel in your quiet breaths; watch you find so easily the peace that eludes me.

Feeling you move further towards me, I tighten my hold, sinking deeper into the silken sheets. We're at the penthouse, of course; couldn't take the risk of going back to your flat where Will might see us, because that would make it real. Right now this can still be written off as a night of intoxicated passion. The fact that it wasn't can easily be ignored.

It would be easier, if it was. But you and I were both sober, curled up on the seats in the office, the late hour and the events of the day lending itself to an unusually intense conversation. Not that we don't discuss our lives in intricate detail on a daily basis – after all, we've worked together for nine years now. But tonight was different, because it wasn't about you and you didn't want it to be. So we sat there, and you laughed at how Woolley had cried and how he was in love with me now. I laughed especially hard at that; two people in the room and the one who hated me was the one who now loved me. But I'd made appropriately disgusted comments and teased you about being too soft for your own damn good. The guy had tried to screw us both over and you'd hugged him and told him it was going to be all right.

Then you looked at me, eyes intense, the feel of your hand on mine burning into my skin. And I think you laughed, speaking too fast, too high. You said you'd seen me destroyed once before, and you weren't ever going to let either of us go through that again.

I think I cried. You'd noticed; you'd seen me falling apart in the months after Stan went to prison, during the separation, and after he died. You weren't always there when I needed you, but that didn't matter, after all we both knew I wasn't going to say anything beyond the cliché'd and expected phrases. Karen Walker doesn't do emotions, in case you've forgotten. But you cared enough to notice, and that was what really mattered.

Of course, I didn't let you see the tears, but you saw anyway. You can be so self-obsessed at times, but when I really need you not to see me, you're too damn observant for my liking. And then I was crying and you, awkward and shocked, with shaking clammy hands, you were there.

I wish I knew how we ended up here, in the penthouse, in my bed. I wish I could know if it's ever going to happen again, if I can look forward to this. But I know you and you, Grace Adler, are not a spontaneous person. You like to pretend you are, and once in a while you'll take a chance. You took a chance on Nathan and you took a chance on Leo, and look how well that turned out. This – _us_ – might be too big a risk.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I don't know you that well at all. Perhaps you'll wake up, and you'll look at me and you won't be freaked out. Except you will be, because you can't have been waiting for this as long as I have. I would have noticed. I know you. The advantage of being the drunk sat in the corner of the room, the woman who notices nothing and talks nonsense and gives ridiculous advice, is that you see everything without anyone seeing you. You're a complex person, but I've had nine years to get to know you and I do. I know you intricately, Grace, every hope, every despair, every flaw, because you hide nothing. You're unashamed of the person you choose to be, no need to withdraw behind a mask of drunkenness and humour and hatred. I wish I could say the same for me, that you know me so intently, but you can't because I never let you.

And I can't help fearing that if I let you in, in nine years time there'll be nothing left but a pile of dust and me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Blatantly aren't mine. I'm not making any money from them. Please don't sue me? The lines from the song quoted at the beginning are from Sarah McLachlan's "Steaming".

**Spoiler warning: **This continues (kind of) from season 7's "Bulley Woolley" with a bit of a twist on it, and then will go AU from there. Other than that there isn't anything else obvious.

**Notes: **This is the third part in a (hopefully) long-running Karen/Grace fic. Please, no flaming. I'm always happy to receive constructive criticism but if you have an objection to f/f pairings (I will say now that this will NOT be a graphic pairing - it involves a femslash couple but if you're looking for girl on girl NC17 fic, you're gonna be disappointed) then this isn't the fic for you. Thanks to Linds for beta-ing again:D

**Part Three: Just Ask Me to Go**

_This isn't the kind that always lasts,_

_If you want me to go just ask me to go I'll go_

Stretching luxuriously, Karen reached an arm out, kicking her left leg to the edge of the bed and corkscrewing her body further down into the sheets.

"You know, for such a small person you sure take up a lot of space in bed."

Karen's eyes shot open in surprise, and, as she rolled onto her right side, she found herself a mere few inches from Grace's amused grin. A slow smile crossed Karen's face. "You can't talk," she responded, her voice husky and deeper than usual from sleep. "I saw you hogging the covers last night."

Grace shrugged, turning onto her back. Karen missed the closeness of her breath on her face almost immediately. "What you gonna do."

Silence enveloped them for several minutes, and Karen almost felt herself drifting off to sleep again, until she heard Grace's giggle. "Hmm?"

Grace bit back another laugh. "I'm just remembering," she choked out through her mirth, "all those times you called me a big lez. Never thought you'd be right!"

Karen stared at the ceiling uncomfortably, not quite sure how to respond. Every instinct in her body screamed to make a joke out of it, to withdraw, but she steadfastly ignored it. "I'm sorry," she said finally, her voice lower than usual and distant as she turned onto her side, facing away from Grace.

Her laughter ceasing abruptly, Grace sat up in bed, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder and forcing her to look at her. "Hey. It's okay. I'm sorry."

"No, I mean it, I really _am_ sorry," Karen insisted, her voice shaking slightly. "I – I said a lot of mean things. And I always wanted to say I'm sorry, but we don't do that, so I never did. And I'm sorry."

"Kare. Anyone ever told you that you babble?" Grace wondered briefly when she'd started using the shortened version of her friend's name. Jack used it often, generally when he needed a particularly extortionate amount of money, but she'd never gotten into the habit. It was softer, though, than her full name. And that seemed right, after last night.

Her rapid apologies dying away, Karen smiled sheepishly. "Jackie, all the time. And Stan did." Grace's breath caught in her throat. Stan. Of course.

Noticing the look on her friend's face, Karen frowned. "Grace – what's the matter?"

Shaking her head briefly, Grace dismissed the thought that had scared her so suddenly. "Never mind." She paused. "You miss him, don't you?"

"Well, of course," Karen said in bewilderment. "You know I do. I love him – I've not stopped just because he's gone. Grace, what's…" her voice trailed off as she stared at Grace with growing comprehension. "Oh, no. No. Absolutely not. Is this what you think last night was about?"

"Wasn't it?" Grace asked directly, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around her, causing Karen to giggle at the delayed attempt to maintain her modesty.

With a sigh, the darker haired woman lay down again, pulling Grace with her so that they were lying side by side. After a moment's thought, she reached for her friend's hand, intertwining their fingers. "No. I miss Stan so much, Grace – you have no idea. But this – this is something entirely separate. I wanted this long before Stan died."

"What?" Grace sat up abruptly, pulling her hand away, noticing too late the hurt crossing Karen's face. "How long?"

Karen couldn't resist. "Well, honey, you know you're blessed in many ways. But I never saw one of those last night…" she let her voice trail off suggestively, and Grace frowned in confusion.

"Huh? Karen, what – oh!" Her eyes widened. "No! Euw! Could you please be serious for just one minute?" she demanded. "I'm not kidding, Karen."

"And nor am I," Karen said flatly. "Well… maybe a little bit then. But Grace…"

Grace waited for several minutes, seeing the turmoil of confusion, hurt, hope and weariness settle on her friend's face before the blank mask replaced it. "What?" she asked, finally.

"I don't know." Eyes wet with tears, Karen looked into the deep brown eyes. "I really don't know where we go from here, Grace."

"Or even if we do." Hating herself for saying it, Grace sat up again, grabbing her top. Hadn't she sworn only last night that she would never walk away? "I – I think we need to figure out if we're going to go anywhere from here, Karen." Her voice caught on the next word. "Separately."

Dressing in silence, feeling rather than seeing the silent anger emanating from her friend, Grace turned towards the door. "I'll see you at work?"

"No." Karen choked on the tears. "No, it's fairly obvious where this is going to go. I quit."

"No, you don't!" Turning back abruptly, Grace wiped away the lone tear making a single track down her cheek. "Kare – I'm sorry. I don't know any way of doing this without hurting either of us, because we can't go into this lightly. I'm not willing to risk our friendship. Please, just come into work tomorrow. I'll wear a horrible blouse, you can make fun of it, and we won't even bother working on the new contract. Please?"

Seeing her friend's final nod, Grace made to leave once again when she was halted by Karen's voice. "Grace – whether you want it to or not, everything's changed. We can't go back to the way we were. Don't even bother trying."

"I won't."

Grace left quickly, falling over her feet through her tears, dropping oddments from her handbag in her haste. And Karen waited a full five minutes before she let herself hide under the covers and cry.


	4. Chapter 4

Yada yada. Don't own 'em, not making any money. The song is "17 again" by the Eurythmics, which is quickly becoming this fanfic's theme song. Listen to it. Remember the song with the really cute music in Bed, Bath and Beyond, right at the end? It's that one.

I know this one's short - the plot bunnies ran away, so I decided to post this little bit as it ends pretty well here anyway. Next part should be up shortly.Thanks to Kitty for beta-ing this one :D

**Part Four: It Wasn't Hard to Fall**

_Yea though we venture through the valley of the stars  
You with all your jewellery and my bleeding heart  
Who could not be together and who could not be apart  
_

Switching off the tap on the bath, Grace sank into the steaming tub, letting the water slop over the edges defiantly. She'd made it too hot on purpose, put too many bubbles in and switched the light off, oddly comforted by the darkness surrounding her. Grabbing the loofah, she scrubbed at her skin angrily, watching it redden, and felt the sting of the hot water against her raw flesh.

It took several minutes for her to notice that she'd drawn blood.

_We should have jumped out of that airplane after all  
Flying skyways over here, it wasn't hard to fall  
And I had so many crashes that I couldn't feel at all_

Karen returned from her place at the mini-bar, clutching a fresh martini. She was already swirling the olives in the drink, tilting her head back and letting the alcohol drip down her throat into the hollow of her breasts, feeling the fresh coolness of her comfort. Curling up in the armchair by her bed, she downed the drink in one. She didn't usually do that; it was tawdry and childish, to say nothing of a waste of a good drink. Besides, she'd learnt long ago that alcohol worked best when consumed slowly, letting it soothe away each ache and hurt as it slid effortlessly down her throat. But right now, she wanted the sharp sting in the back of her mouth, the dizzy rush that came with drinking too quickly and eating too little.

She wanted the mindlessness and darkness that came with drinking oneself into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

Huge apologies for having left it so long – university is absolutely manic at the moment! My Will and Grace obsession has been resurrected, though, so you can expect more of this over the next few months! The song here is Sarah McLachlan's 'Fear'.

**Part Five: Nothing to Give**

_But I fear_

_I have nothing to give_

_I have so much to lose here in this lonely place_

_Tangled up in our embrace_

Will tapped lightly at the bathroom door, growing concerned. Grace had been in the bath for over an hour now, which meant that whatever was wrong, was _very_ wrong. If she was stressed, she took a twenty minute bath. A half hour bath meant that she'd had a fight with her mother, and anything up to forty-five minutes meant man trouble. Clearly this was going to be more difficult than he'd thought.

Splashing the rapidly diminishing bubbles in the bath around to hide the blood spilling from the raw flesh on her arm, Grace sank further into the lukewarm water, already replenished several times. "Come in," she called, knowing that refusing entry would just mean Will picking the lock with the bobby pin that he pretended belonged to Jack.

Entering, and taking a seat on the edge of the bath, Will frowned at his best friend. "Talk."

As she opened her mouth, he held up a hand. "Wait a sec – let's get this out of the way. You're fine, there's nothing wrong, you're sure you're fine, you'd tell me if anything was bothering you and you don't know why I think I know you well enough to know that you're not fine when you so obviously are." Will gasped for breath. "Did I miss anything?"

Grace sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "You forgot the part where there really is nothing wrong."

"Right, that part. Liar. Talk." Will handed her a glass of red wine.

Shrugging and taking a gulp of the drink, Grace willed the tears welling in her eyes not to fall. "Not much to say, really. I just made a stupid mistake."

Feeling slightly wicked, Will waited until Grace had taken another drink of wine, moving out of the firing range. "So was the stupid mistake sleeping with Karen, or leaving afterwards?"

Grace spat the wine out, dropping the glass into the tub. "_What_?"

"Hey, careful!" Will exclaimed, reaching into the tub and rescuing his glass.

"How – what – huh?" Grace demanded.

"And tomorrow we'll be working on full sentences," Will deadpanned. "Jack just phoned. Karen won't talk to him, but he's been seeing her pastry chef and you two weren't exactly subtle, apparently."

Groaning, Grace covered her eyes with one hand. "This is so not good."

Will shrugged. "This is the most exciting thing that's happened within our group in a long time. You had to know Jack would find it entertaining for at _least_ five minutes."

Grace shrugged, sitting up in the tub with little regard for her modesty. As Will's eyes widened, she sank down again, hastily. "I guess so." Glancing at him, she hesitated, then continued her train of thought. "Are we okay with this?"

"We? Define we, Gracie. You and me, we, you and Karen we, all four of us we?" He paused. "There was way too much peeing in that sentence."

Grace wrinkled her nose. "Euw. I meant you and me we, dumbass. You can stay out of the me and Karen part, and Jack'll have forgotten it in a week."

"Not likely," Will scoffed. "Karen is his hag."

"Hey!"

"What? It's true. You're my hag, she's his. This is going to confuse everything," Will said teasingly.

"Will. Seriously."

"Seriously?" He hit her over the back of the head. "How could you not think I'd be okay with this?"

Grace yelped. "Ow! And I don't know – I wasn't exactly supportive when you came out."

He looked startled suddenly. "Is this you coming out? As a lesbian? Or bisexual?"

"Oh, god, I don't know," Grace groaned, sinking further into the tub. "Go away, Will. I need to wallow."

"Tough. Get out of the tub, Karen's outside. Actually – no, I'm just going to let her in here. And I am going to get out of here. See you tomorrow, Gracie." He stood up from his perch on the edge of the tub, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Sort it out, willya?" Throwing a towel at her, he exited the room and left the two women alone.


End file.
